Watching Over You
by coruscantbookshelf
Summary: AU! Xanatos doesn't fall at Telos, and the rest is extrapolation, with a couple of my own characters. A story told one short monologue at a time.
1. Chapter 1 - Xanatos, 42 BBY

Okay, Bruck. All right. I give in. The last three days you've done nothing but bombard me with perfectly valid arguments: you're my Padawan; it's family history; you're old enough, at fifteen, to understand. Well, now I'm saying: you win. I'll tell you. I'll tell you what happened eleven years ago today at Telos, when I was sixteen. When Qui-Gon gets back from Melida with Obi-Wan, you can ask him to confirm anything I'm about to tell you.

It was my father. Crion was my _father_ ; that's where I get my name, Xanatos DuCrion. What happened at Telos was… it was not good. That day, in the house where I was born, I nearly fell. If it hadn't been for Qui-Gon, I would have fallen.

Yoda didn't trust me; he was right not to. I don't think I'm boasting when I say that I had something special. That I still have. But power – even Force power – and danger are indissolubly wedded: I was dangerous. The whole Council felt it. Nevertheless, Qui-Gon decided to risk the danger and take me as his Padawan. He said that although my future was uncertain, I wasn't dangerous to anyone who did not choose to see danger in me. And for that I can never be other than grateful.

We argued a lot, when I was a Padawan. We still do, only now it's mostly behind closed doors. I liked pushing the boundaries. Qui-Gon set them fairly loose, but then stuck to them. Still, that's all background, you know all that. You asked about Telos.

Crion – my _father_ – had made himself very rich and very powerful through the efforts of others. He ruled the planet absolutely and alone. Qui-Gon and I were sent to Telos to investigate certain whispers, rumors, of the corruption on my homeworld. Why us? Why not some other team? I'll never know for certain, but I think Master Yoda meant it as a test: my first real test of character, my baptism of fire, if you like. The final test he would need before trusting me.

And a baptism of fire it was indeed. I was tempted – I'll shout it from the Council spire – and I barely even tried to resist. This isn't something I'm proud of, Bruck, but it's the truth. My father asked me to forswear myself, break my commitment to the Order and to Qui-Gon, and join him. To take the place my birth decreed. And Force forgive me, Padawan, I did. _I did_. I spat in my Master's face, and I turned and walked away at Crion's side. Without looking back.

It didn't last. I hoped… but the Telosian people were tired of Crion, and his announcement that his rule would not end at his death, but carry on through his son, enraged them. Within the week, a rebellion flamed up. I was a hotheaded boy who suddenly found himself conveniently unrestrained by any idea of ethics or morals. I urged Crion to hire mercenaries and fight back, to crush the rebels. And then people were dying and the situation spiraled out of control.

The last battle was fought in my father's palace. Qui-Gon was there. It was only many years later that he told me why: he was there to try one mad last-ditch effort to save me from myself. Crion was killed in the battle. Qui-Gon dealt the killing blow before my very eyes. His lightsaber sliced through the ring on my father's finger, and entered his heart. I screamed, I think, in fury, and charged at him with my saber lit.

Do you know what? He just… stood there. And it was like all the lights came back on in my mind: Qui-Gon would never hurt me deliberately. He loved me for who I was, even though I was just a crazy kid with a heart brim-full of rage. Crion wanted me because I was something he could own, a tool to extend my power. So I stopped. For what felt like the longest time, I stood in the burning ruins of the palace, between my father's corpse and my Master who I had betrayed.

I picked up Crion's ring from the fire where it had fallen, and pressed the hot metal to my cheek. You can still see the scar: a broken circle. The scar serves to remind me always of what I nearly threw away. I deactivated my lightsaber, and knelt on the floor before my Master. I don't remember what I said: I think it might have been, ' _Kill me now_ '. I wanted to die. Thousands of people had been killed by Crion's greed, and he hadn't given a flying kriff for any of them. Thousands of people had been killed by my stupidity, and every death weighed heavy on me, because I was, am, and will be until I draw my last breath, a Jedi. Qui-Gon didn't kill me, of course. He lifted me up, and said he was glad the Xanatos he knew had finally returned.

You and I are opposites, dark and light, but only to look at. We both have the same ugly streak of power-hunger deep down. I sensed it in you, and took you on because I knew what it was like and thought I could help. You have to fight it. You _have_ to. If you don't, it will consume you from the inside out; believe me, I know. I hope it never takes a situation like Telos for you to understand how much I care about you, Bruck. Just know that I will watch over you, and that if you ever make a mistake as stupid as mine, I will do my damnedest to bring you back, just as Qui-Gon did for me. Even if it kills me.


	2. Chapter 2 - Qui-Gon, 27 BBY

Sitting here in your chair, at your desk, in your green-painted room, I watch you as you sleep. At least, I suppose you are asleep. Master Li diagnosed nothing more or less serious than sheer exhaustion, compounded with hypothermia, and told me it was all my fault and I must take better care of you. And he is right: I forgot. I forgot it was our first mission together, Padawan, and I forgot you were still recovering from Tandari fever, and I forgot that a ten-year-old girl cannot walk at my pace for forty miles a day, on short rations, for a week in subzero temperatures. And I am truly sorry.

I am also very glad that we have three bedrooms in our quarters, and that Tahl agreed to move into the third. Since I'm used to boys, I don't quite know where to begin with you. Perhaps I could start by trying to understand you. Staring at the wall above the desk, I study your tree-worth of rustling picture leaves pinned there. Presumably the Jedi with the vivid orange hair and beard and blue lightsaber is meant for Obi-Wan. Tahl's portrait is recognizable by the overlarge eyes, carefully penciled in green and yellow candy-stripes. I see sketches of Bruck and Xanatos, Yoda, Anakin, and various of your own friends, all labeled in straggling, unsophisticated capital letters.

Concealed by fluttering edges of newer drawings, I find one I do not understand. Against a background of blurry blue bars suggestive of the Archives, you have drawn a Jedi with long gray hair, standing with one hand stretched out toward a narrow pedestal surmounted by a statue of some sort. By the color, I guess that the originals of both statue and plinth are crafted from bronzium. Curious now, I unpin the sketch to find the caption.

' _Master Qui-Gon worrying about Master –_ ' two attempts at the final word are scratched out; I suppose you couldn't spell it; then Tahl's spiky handwriting interposes ' _Dooku_ '. In the Archives, a bronzium cast of his head was recently erected among the representations of the Lost of twenty centuries. And while I do go there often enough that you would notice, I do not _worry_ about Master Dooku, Padawan mine. I _wonder_. Where he is. Why he left. What he is doing. Whether I should have gone with him. When one's Master – note, I do not say _your_ Master, for I mean never to do this to you – leaves the Council and the Temple without a word of explanation or farewell, and stays away five years, one naturally wonders. I couldn't go with him then because of Obi-Wan; I cannot search for him now because of you.

Perhaps, when you wake, I will ask: Nasriel, would you like to come with me on a quest the Council has repeatedly vetoed? Or perhaps I will not: flying in the face of authority myself is one thing; involving you is another entirely. Odd: I would not have hesitated to take Obi-Wan or Xanatos. But girls are tricky. I count three former Padawans, all boys, all Human. You, small one, with your sky-blue skin pearly in the dim light, and long, loose, carbon-black braid snaking over your shoulder, are neither. And a month after obtaining special permission to take you on two years early, I realize I'm not entirely sure what I'm doing.

So why was I so insistent on training you in the first place? It's a long, sad story. Nearly fifty years long now, in fact. Your grandmother Taharat and I came from the same world, and I met her on one of my first missions as a Padawan. We became friends, and maintained contact over the years. Eventually she married a soldier. It proved to be a terrible match, and she was desperately unhappy. However, her daughter Rasla was Force-sensitive to a high degree. One day Taharat wrote to me, greatly agitated: her baby had tried to get something that was out of her reach, and had summoned it straight into her hand.

When I explained what was happening, and offered to watch over Rasla when she was sent to the Temple, her father was furious, refusing to let her go, and forbidding me ever to contact Taharat again. A few weeks later, I heard that my friend had died, apparently an accident. Rasla was raised in her father's army unit, and married an earl – your father, Nasriel. It would seem unhappiness in the mother is conducive to Force-sensitivity in the child. As you know, your mother died young – three days after you were born – but the earl was a reasonable man, and sent you here as soon as your abilities became apparent.

Do you ever regret being sent to the Temple? You're only ten, but you're richer than Crion ever was, since your father's death left you his entire fortune. We'll have to talk about _that_ when you wake up – it's positively irresponsible to leave a ten-year-old in sole charge of an estate that size. You could be the queen of a whole world, adored by millions of people – but instead you're just a Padawan, no more important than any other. Except to me. To me you are quite astounding, very precious, and _critically_ important.

Your eyelids flutter; you're awake, your pupils flashing purple as they reflect the lamplight. Tell me, Padawan Nasriel Threeb: how would you like to come with me, searching for Master Dooku?


	3. Chapter 3 - Tahl, 25 BBY

I know that's you, Nasriel, stop tiptoeing. Come over here; you've been on mission with Qui-Gon for a month, so your hair is bound to be a tangled womprats'-nest. I'll sort it out.

Qui didn't come in with you, which tells me he's filing the report. Does he still make you draft mission reports for essay practice? How did it go – that's rhetorical. I can tell by your breathing and the set of your shoulders that you didn't find him. It's a wild bantha chase, sweetheart, and Qui must have accepted that, after two years and ten month-long stints of hunting. Dooku is gone; you can't find a Sentinel who doesn't want to be found.

And I know I'm making the comb tug. It'll do you good to realize someone can love you and still hurt you. Outside the dojo Qui-Gon treats you like a glass doll. Or one of those impossibly delicate wooden figures Obi-Wan makes. You're only a child, but I think you might understand this: just because your Master loves you – don't give me that face, missy, he does! – yes, I _am_ blind, but I know what face you were making; now listen. Just because Qui-Gon loves you, it doesn't mean he won't hurt you by mistake.

Well… I doubt that particular incident in the dojo was entirely _on accident_ , sweetheart. And that was Xanatos anyway. I meant hurting your feelings: he'd never do that maliciously, but because he is an obstinate gundark of a man – yes, by all means tell him I said that – he sometimes wounds people deeply without meaning to or even knowing it. Yes, personal experience. No, I won't elaborate.

Nasriel, this is a mess. Even combing muja-seed oil through, we'll be a long time about it. What? No, I will not tell you about how come I'm blind. You've heard it at least three times already from the boys. I'll tell you another story instead. The New Apsolon situation, I think. Now there's a tale worth repeating. It all started when Ewane was killed – or rather, when he was elected Governor, the first ruler of the new, reformed system. His daughters Eritha and Alani were friends of mine. When Ewane died, his comrade Roan was elected in his place; Roan did not hold the people's love, and the secret police of the old regime began to hold sway again, undermining the authorities by their reign of terror. The girls were afraid, and sent to the Temple asking me to help them.

Oh, don't you start on tthat too! Like Master, like Padawan: Qui-Gon tried to discourage me from going alone, but I insisted. Alani and Eritha trusted _me_. In the end I had to infiltrate the secret police – the Absolutes – to find out who among the new regime's leaders still supported the old ways in secret. Secrets are terrible things, little one: they are never what they seem, even when you have uncovered them. This time I found what I wanted to know, but too late. One of the traitors really working for the Absolutes, the Security Controller Balog, worked out that I was a spy, and whisked me away into the back of nowhere, to discover exactly how much I knew.

The Absolutes were masters of interrogation and pain, Padawan. They often used a paralyzing drug which left the victim conscious but immobilized; it wore off quickly, but if reused many times, resulted in permanent damage. Muscle deterioration, organ failure, little things like that. Qui-Gon had no idea any of this had happened, of course, but after I'd been gone a month, he came looking for me. If Obi-Wan and Xanatos hadn't worked out that he was leaving, the only result would have been two dead Jedi rather than one.

Xan left Bruck here to keep Bant company – you didn't know I trained Bant, did you? Only for a few years, until she discovered she was better suited to healing than undercover work. Don't laugh; it's a high calling. The idea that warriors are somehow greater, you got from Qui-Gon: some sort of hangover from his time with Master Dooku, and not baggage _you_ need to weigh yourself down with, sweetheart. Force knows you've got enough to carry for a twelve-year-old.

Where was I? ' _Kidnapped and tortured by Balog_ ' – you have such a delicate way of putting things, child. Just like your Master. Now, I had no way of knowing what went on outside, but according to the boys (Boys. Oh dear. And Xanatos over forty!) a hundred and one things went wrong along the way. Qui-Gon almost got arrested for something. Obi-Wan was hurt in a rock-fall of some sort. If Xanatos hadn't been there to stay with him, Qui wouldn't have found me for at least another day. I would have died.

I almost died anyway. Two things kept me alive: the New Apsolon medics, and the knowledge that Qui-Gon was right beside me the whole time, _willing_ me to live.

Am I what? No, Nasriel, I am not in love with Qui-Gon, nor he with me. That would be a greater catastrophe than Obi-Wan's disaster a few years ago. Poor boy; we thought for a few weeks that we had lost him entirely. He was devastated. For some reason I found favor as a confidant, and he told me the whole thing. And that is absolutely all I will repeat. What I've said so far could refer to any one of a dozen missions, and I won't tell you Obi-Wan's secrets any more than I'd tell him yours.

There. And I hope next time I have to untangle your hair, you'll at least have found Master Dooku. Though I don't think it likely, sad to say.


	4. Chapter 4 - Obi-Wan, 25 BBY

Ben? Where are you? Gone to bed already? I'm sure when I was your age I'd never have – no, I'm not scolding. I just wanted to talk to you. And I'd advise you not to check too many historical details about me with Master Jinn. Even though I've disclosed a few home truths to young Nasriel over the last five years. But that isn't what I was going to say. Do you mind if I sit next to you on your bed?

I'm told this has broken the Temple record for rebound: a week between one Padawan being Knighted and the next assigned. I'm only glad your thirteenth birthday comes safely after the Trials, so there was no risk of you and Anakin overlapping. It makes more sense for me to train you than anybody else; you're my nephew, after all, so we at least have blood and tradition – and language – in common.

First day over. Think you can survive the next ten years? You've joined the oddest lineage-family in the Order, I hope you're aware. This afternoon, I talked things over with the others: Qui-Gon, Tahl, Xanatos and Bruck, Anakin and Nasriel. In short, we're agreed you deserve to be told a little about how such an eclectic group of beings came together.

To start with Master Dooku: he's been gone ten years now, and Qui-Gon and Nasriel have been searching for him the last five. Likely enough you've seen the statue among the Lost in the Archives: it means they're the only Jedi left who truly believe they can find Dooku and bring him home. Tahl tries to hope, but she faced the reality of the case years ago, same as the rest of us. But Qui-Gon just won't give up – in fact, they mean to be off again tomorrow at the crack of dawn.

Tahl and Qui-Gon have been friends since the Youngling dorm, and she moved into his quarters at the appearance of Nasriel, the latter being a small female and as such quite beyond him to comprehend. Bruck is with Xanatos because Xan saw something in him – and that's all he'll ever tell. Why Nasriel is Qui-Gon's Padawan is a long and genealogical story I shan't bore you with tonight, more so as I don't know all the details. Xanatos, because Qui-Gon found him and brought him to the Temple in the first place. Me… I still don't know why. Call it the will of the Force.

Anakin? Now there's a bedtime story and a half for a thirteen-year-old just out of Initiates. He won't mind my telling it you. It started when Senator Amidala – you might meet her someday; she's a good friend to the Order – was Queen Amidala of Naboo. The Trade Federation blockaded the world, trying to annex it by making the Queen sign a treaty. When she requested Jedi intervention, Yoda sent Qui-Gon and me to help. One thing leading to another, we all had to leave, running the blockade with moments to spare.

Exciting? I suppose so. It never really occurred to me except as work to be done. Anakin. Right. With the hyperdrive leaking coolant and beyond repair, we had no choice but to land on the Rim world of Tatooine, to try and get a new drive. Only one dealer had the parts we needed, and he wouldn't accept Republic credits.

Qui-Gon ran into a slave boy, a young amateur Podracer. As there was a big race the next day, the boy – Anakin – offered to race. Said he could win. Qui-Gon bet the parts we needed against the Queen's ship, all on a nine-year-old's boast. Beyond all odds, it came off, with enough money in side bets to buy the boy's freedom into the bargain. Anakin's blood showed a higher midichlorian count than any Jedi's, and Qui-Gon took him home to the Temple, and informed up all flatly that he intended to train Anakin as his Padawan. There was a minor calamity involving a Sith apprentice and Qui-Gon almost getting killed, that I _won't_ tell you just before you go to sleep. The Council refused to let Qui-Gon train Anakin, said the boy was too old, too set in his ways, and far, far too angry.

Well, that was the signal for battle royal in the family. I hope never to see us so bitterly divided again. For once, I agreed with Bruck: that Anakin had to be trained, and Qui-Gon was the only Master willing to defy the Council. Curiously, Xanatos fought back, arguing on Nasriel's behalf. Qui-Gon's promise to her predated his promise to Anakin by two generations, so he was bound to keep his word to _her_ before even thinking of training _him_. Tahl said a man's word was his bond, and if Qui-Gon meant to throw that away – even in an apparently unimportant matter concerning two children – she didn't intend to stay to watch.

Bruck and Xanatos got in a yelling match, with Xan trying to pull rank on Bruck, and Bruck not taking a bar of it; I said things I should never have said to Tahl; and Qui-Gon stormed on about how he would do what he must, and nobody else had to like it, without actually telling us what he _wanted_ to do. For a week, none of us was talking to any of the others, and in the middle of it all Master Dooku walked calmly out, never to return. I try not to dwell on the idea that he might have stayed if only we'd all stopped fighting for ten minutes.

In the end… well, Qui-Gon told me, and Xan told Bruck, that if we were that set on Anakin's being trained, we could see to it ourselves. As we both expressed willingness to take the boy on, the choice was left to Anakin. He chose me. And in the last ten years I've been glad he did.

There's a war coming, Ben. The Galaxy's unsettled; too many people have hidden agendas. Soon enough, the storm will break, and the Order will bear the brunt of it. But that's nothing for you to worry about just now. Sleep while you can, boy.


	5. Chapter 5 - Dooku, 22 BBY

Ten years, Qui-Gon? It took you ten years to come looking for me? I'm insulted. What do you want now, anyway? Sifo-Dyas. I see. Already the Council's taken you off real missions onto the diplomatic circuit. I imagine your Padawan finds that irksome – a high-spirited, energetic teenaged girl tied down to an old man…

She's a nice child. Small, pretty… probably a little tired of the energy-field restrainer by now. Oh, don't be so hasty. She's not hurt – yet. Come along, say what you came here to say.

Oh, the clone army wasn't _my_ idea, and Sifo-Dyas is dead now. What a waste of your time. You told Yoda about the clone army when you got back from Kamino, of course. But I want to talk about the girl. She's the one you were all arguing about just before I left, I suppose. Who did train the boy in the end? Obi-Wan. Good choice. Of course you'll want little Miss Nexu-got-her-tongue. She's said nothing all the last week. Nasriel Kaliu Threeb – am I right? Did you know what it means? No – you wouldn't. You never did pay enough attention to other languages.

Take this in plain Basic, then: while we are here talking past history, the war the Galaxy has been dreading is starting at Geonosis. I'm told Obi-Wan is there. Investigating a droid factory the Trade Federation gets its troops from. I'm told the Geonosians found him snooping around – no mention of Anakin, so I suppose he's safe for now. I'm told they mean to have Obi-Wan killed. But Yoda won't allow one of the brightest stars of the Order to fall, not when he can have a whole army of fully-trained clone soldiers for the asking. Sifo-Dyas ordered the army in the name of the Jedi Council. Fool.

The first battle of the war starts today. This is the beginning, Qui-Gon. Only the beginning. The sides are evenly matched enough that this could easily go on for years. Which gives us plenty of time to decide whether your Padawan survives to see any of it. Odd for you: a girl _and_ a non-Human. Well, half-Human, then, if you prefer. What did Xanatos think of that? Furious, I imagine. He always did have a promising twist of anger to him.

I asked him to go with me when I left. He refused on the grounds that Bruck wasn't ready for the Trials. I didn't try convincing you; I've taught you enough dirty tricks that you could counter any reasoning I presented. Now, however, I've found an argument even you can't defeat.

The Council is hopelessly corrupt, letting the Senate order them around, in hope of political favors. Years ago, I warned them about that: it's a dangerous state to be in. With over ten thousand of the most powerful beings in the Galaxy as members of the Order, we should rule the Senate, not vice versa. But that wasn't my persuasive argument, so you needn't look so skeptical.

No, it's this: come with me, now, and nobody will ever question or second-guess your decisions again. You'll be a free agent. Isn't that what you always wanted? And, I have some influential friends now: I can guarantee you the survival of Obi-Wan and Xanatos, Bruck and the little slave. Nasriel can stay with you or return to the Temple, as you prefer.

The Sith Rule of Two is very wise. Wise but shortsighted: it relies on the apprentice having no history or friends of his own. Al these years, the blind fools on the Council thought I was Lost. Nonsense. Although I've had to work alone, which I don't deny has been hard, I've lied and dissembled and learned dark secrets enough that the Sith Lord believes me totally loyal to him. Think. It's something Obi-Wan used to say – he was wise, for a child – _When someone thinks they have you all figured out, that's when they're vulnerable_. Together, we can destroy the Sith, crush him and put his power to serve a nobler cause. How do you know I'm not lying now? You can't.

But just to show I mean you no harm, I'll even let you have Nasriel back now. Here, you – go bring the girl here.

You see she's not hurt – speak, girl; that is true, is it not? You need not swear at me, I am releasing you back to your Master. You were wanted only as an extra inducement for him to come. Qui-Gon, look. The door is open: you may leave this instant if you wish. But if you do, know that you will be responsible for my death. The Sith is suspicious, and jealous, and thinks nothing of killing. Either we three kill him together, or he will kill me presently, and you two by remote, in the course of the war. You've played dejarik with me before. This is no different. Rook to katarn four.

Your choice. Your move.


	6. Chapter 6 - Ahsoka, 21 BBY

I want to _go_ , Master! Everybody's going: Obi-Wan and Ben, Qui-Gon and Nasriel, Xanatos, Bruck, even Nasriel's weird friend is on station helping with intel, and he's _lame_ for Force sake! _Tahl's_ gone! I'm the only kid I know not at war. What is with this, Skyguy?

Oh, what, so since you got a metal hand you're on the cushy Senate protection detail? Bet you're loving that. But _I_ don't have to be stiffed with Core duty. I can go with Xanatos – he doesn't leave until tomorrow, and he'd take me if you asked him to.

I don't not like your company, I'm just sick of being the only kid over thirteen with no war flash in my beads. I can _do_ this. I know I can. Why won't you let me? I know this isn't all about your hand and how you're not used to it yet. Before I was your Padawan you went on the tough missions. Sometimes alone, sometimes with someone else in the family, but you went. What's different? I'm a little girl, is that it? I'm not that little. Nasriel goes missions, and she's three inches shorter than me.

And for all Qui-Gon's so touchy about her _here_ , at home, seriously, in the last six years she's been captured and sold and bought back and beat up and in battle and I don't even know what chizzk. What? No, I don't _want_ to go through all that; I want to prove myself, and if that's what it takes, I'll do it, that's all. You know, sometimes with you I get the feeling I'm just talking to the wall. Are you even hearing a word I'm saying?

You what? Skyguy, I'll help 'cause you're my Master, just tell me why is all. _Why_ you even _want_ to hack the door-code at Qui-Gon and Tahl's place. Because it's there. Real profound. Really. Why? They're… family. You don't snoop on family.

So Qui-Gon won't tell you, so maybe he _doesn't want you to know_ , mm? And anyway, _how_ does 'something connecting him to Tahl' have anything to do with whether you accept Senator Amidala's request for Jedi protection? And what 'something' do you want? They live in the same quarters, for crying out loud! How much more connected do Jedi _get_?

Ew. Okay, thanks, Skyguy, didn't have to get all explicit on me… you don't really think…? Nah. Not them. No way.

Skyguy – Master – what are you – you are not meant to be looking in there. That's Qui-Gon's private papers. Get out of that. You're – you're reading his letters! What is it you're trying to find? _No_ I won't shut up! Well yeah, yeah if you want to know I _can_ make out that handwriting, but I'm not going to read it to you. This is dishonest, Master.

Okay, fine then, just remember I didn't want to. It says: 'Dear Qui-Gon, I don't know how to -' No. I'm not going on. It's bad enough that I've read it. What are you doing? You can't… _take_ it.

How would I know if it's Tahl's handwriting? As long as I've known her she's dictated everything onto a droid. Master, put it _back_ and let's get out of here, please. This looks a lot like the beginnings of a blackmail to me, Skyguy. So I'm telling you here and now, to stop me saying what I've seen, you will have to kill me. I'm not standing for this. I'm calling Qui-Gon on station.

All right. If you really feel it's something you have to confess in person, you can have twelve hours from the time any of them gets back, and then I'll tell. _Any_ of them. Even if it's only Nasriel on her own.

I'll hold my peace until then. I know it could be a while. But do you remember the last of the Dooku Missions? When Qui-Gon and Nasriel came home after months of no transmissions, and then when we were all together again in their quarters, he stood up in the middle of the main room, and said very quietly just seven words: Octavius Yan Dooku numbers among the Lost. And he said he was sorry to have been away so much, and worry us so much, but he couldn't have given up, not while there was still some hope.

I wondered then – last year, when I'd just been assigned – and I still wonder now: what if there _is_ still hope? What if… even whatever Master Dooku has done… is reversible? 'Cause nobody could ever do anything bad enough that _Qui-Gon Jinn_ despaired of their ever being redeemed – could they?

Why are you crying, Master? Is it something I said?


	7. Chapter 7 - Anakin, 21 BBY

I'm glad you're the first one home. Makes it easier, in a way. Although I said so to Snips, I couldn't have confessed to Qui-Gon straight off. I think what makes the difference is knowing you can't see me. It's unthreatening. You're confidant to the whole family, pretty much; you know all our secrets. Is it fun – the feeling of power?

Okay, I'll get on with it. While you were all away, I hacked the door-code to your quarters and stole a letter out of Qui-Gon's room. But that's not the worst. I did it because I wanted to know that… _someone_ else understood what I was thinking. The letter is signed 'T' and dated fifty-two years ago. It's vague and allusive and nearly illegible in places, but I'm pretty sure T is a woman. She writes about a long and close friendship, about Qui-Gon being the only thing standing between her and insanity, and about someone who wants this friendship to end. She ends by saying that although to continue the relationship as before is impossible, her feelings for Qui-Gon will never change.

It's you, isn't it? T is you. You love him. And it's mutual. You know, I'd never be able to tell you what I'm about to tell you, if I hadn't worked that out.

I'm… married. The first day I met her, I knew: someday, she would be my wife. I love her more every single day, every _hour_. You can't think how she makes me feel. I live for her, Tahl. I can't imagine life without her.

Oh. Padmé Naberrie Amidala. We've kept it a secret so far – I know what Obi-Wan would say: _get out of my sight._ And she knew what the Queen of Naboo would say: more of the same. So nobody knows but us, and the priest who married us, in the Lake Country of Naboo. Telling you this spells the end of my life as a Jedi. I accept that. I can even live with that, if it means I can be with Padmé. She's my soul, and a man can't live without his soul.

A year. We've been married a year. And she loves me too, she _does_. I made a necklace for her out of a japor snippet, back on Tatooine. I was a nine-year-old kid, you can imagine what my carving skills were like. She showed me yesterday, she still has it, still wears it all the time. For no other reason than that I made it for her.

What am I going to do? I can't do this forever. I hate telling a lie to Obi-Wan at the best of times: he sort of looks at me sideways until I feel like he already knows I'm lying, and it's hurt him, and he's just waiting for me to tell him why. I can't bear _living_ a lie to him. But I don't have a choice. Padmé and I agreed that it would destroy both our lives if anyone knew, but it would destroy us each if we had to be separated.

No. I can't tell Obi-Wan. He'd be devastated. You know him; he's never put a foot wrong in his life. _How_ can I possibly tell him the Council was right all along and he and Qui-Gon and Bruck and – all of us – were wrong? That I'm _not_ meant to be a Jedi? What? Where's Melida/Daan? Who the blue Wild Space is Satine Kyrze? What are you _talking_ about?

Okay, Tahl, if those are the only options you're giving me, then yes, I'll tell him. Over a comm. Right here, right now, with you listening in.

Whew.

Rex, I have to talk to General Kenobi. Oh… Look, I don't care if he's asleep. Tell him Anakin needs him. _Come on, Obi-Wan, wake up, get on the line._

Obi-Wan, hi. I've got something to tell you. You remember Padmé Amidala from Naboo? You know her full name? Um, no. Obi-Wan, that's – that's not it. It's Padmé Naberrie Amidala… Skywalker. She's my wife. I married her a year ago. I… love her. And she loves me back.

Don't just stand there, Master. You're killing me. Tell me you never want to see me again, shout, scream, only _say_ something! Please.

You what? _How_ in the name of all things holy can you _understand_? Get out of here. You're the coldest-hearted chosski in the Order and you understand _love_? I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I've screwed everything up, but I love her. What am I going to do? What _can_ I do?

No way. I can't tell Master Windu. _You_ can't tell Master Windu. Master, please. Even your seat on the Council doesn't require you to destroy my whole life. I'm on my knees here _begging_ you, and Tahl's watching. Well, she's here, anyway. How much more do you want to degrade me? 'Cause I will do literally anything for you if you'll keep this to yourself. Okay, you can tell Master Yoda. And okay, I'll tell Qui-Gon when he gets home.

Listen, Obi-Wan, traditionally we aren't allowed to marry, I _know_ that. But they make exceptions for Sentinels. And isn't the point of the rule to reduce distractions? I'm not distracted – ask anyone. Ask Ahsoka, she's my harshest critic. Ask _yourself_. I love Padmé. Is that so wrong? Didn't you tell me once that sometimes loving another person can stop you giving in, because you don't want to hurt them by dying if you can possibly avoid it? Didn't Qui-Gon say it was you that kept him alive after the fight with the Sith? Love isn't wrong, Master. Letting love take over from your duties, that's wrong. But I'm _not_.

You'll – did I hear you right? Did you say you'd talk to Master Yoda and try to get me a _dispensation_? I can stay married? I don't have to lose Padmé? _Thank you_ , Master! I know, I know, it's not a sure thing. But you're not mad at me? You still… love me.

Bye. I'll see you when you get home. And – thanks, Obi-Wan. Skywalker, over and out.

Tahl, what? You're not – T isn't – you didn't write – Okay, Tahl, I give up. Who the nine Sith hells is Taharat Weskar when she's at home, and why was she writing to Qui-Gon?


	8. Chapter 8 - Padme, 19 BBY

Master Kenobi – Obi-Wan. It's good of you to come on such short notice. Please, sit down. How is everybody back at the Temple? Your Padawan? I'm glad to hear it. Now, I hope I have been misinformed, but I had heard that Master Jinn was… unwell. Oh. Oh, my. That… makes my own problems seem far less significant by comparison.

Very well, we will not talk of it. What can you tell me about the war? I am kept mostly in the dark at the moment, and Anakin tries to 'protect' me from any bad news.

Three? The course of the war turns on three individuals? General Grievous, Count Dooku, and the Sith Lord that Dooku told Master Jinn about. I'm sorry, I know it must be painful for you to think it of one of your own, but is Dooku truly a Sith, like – like Darth Maul? I see. And… he is the only one who knows the identity of the Sith Lord. That makes it difficult, does it not?

Can you not appeal to his former life as a member of the Order, to a friendship forged there, perhaps? Send someone he knew to reason with him?

I am not a child, Obi-Wan. If you think it is none of my business, by all means tell me so, rather than murmuring politely that the Council decides such matters. You are on the Council: if it was possible for you to believe that a mere politician's idea had some little merit, it would be possible for you to advance the idea for discussion.

Problems. Yes, that was why I asked you to come, wasn't it? Of course I have problems: nowadays, who doesn't? First, I'm worried about Ani. He's troubled by something, having nightmares like just before his mother was killed, and he won't talk to me about it. From what I can untangle alone, I think it might be the Chancellor. They spend a lot of time together, closeted in Palpatine's office in the Senate, and Ani's always upset when he comes back to me afterwards. He talks about never letting anything happen to me, about being able to protect me, like he thinks I'm under threat again.

Can't you talk to him? Tell him people have tried to assassinate me before, and I'm still here, alive and well. I won. I'm not that easy to kill, any more than a Jedi is. I'm touched that he worries about me, but there is nothing to worry about, and I'm afraid of the effect it's having on him.

Come to that, I'm a little worried about Palpatine as well. The last few years – more so the last few weeks – he's been so different to the kindly, optimistic man I knew back home at Naboo. I know it could be just the pressures of the office, but… he's changed so I hardly know him anymore.

No, I don't think there's anything wrong with you, and I don't think you'd let me find out if there was. I'm not paranoid, Obi-Wan. I'm as sane as I've ever been.

I do have one more worry. Although Anakin was bursting to tell the whole family – who _is_ in this Jedi family, by the way? – I insisted that I tell you myself. We've been friends for over ten years; it's only right.

Obi-Wan, I'm pregnant. What am I going to do? The Queen has – very kindly – excused me from all my duties for the moment, and I suspect she thinks it's the result of some casual affair. I'm happy to let her go on thinking that, since it means nobody in the embassy will try to find out the truth. Anakin? Ani's beyond thrilled. So am I, at heart, but I can't help counting up obstacles.

What if the child is Force-sensitive? I know there were problems enough with the paperwork for Anakin thirteen years ago, that _both_ parents of a Youngling have to be listed wherever possible, but surely it's not possible to send another child to the Temple with no documented father?

What if it's a boy and he grows up to resemble Anakin? The secret would be out. So far Ani says only 'the family' and Master Yoda know about his marriage, and Master Yoda only agreed to it as a fait accompli, that Anakin swore would not affect his commitment to the Order.

I already love this child. Why am I expecting you to understand this? You are a man and a Jedi. You will never know what it is to hold your own child. A separate, unique being who is compounded part of yourself, and part of the person you love most in the whole Galaxy. Never. I can't ask you to understand, but I can ask you to accept my feelings.

I know – _I know_ – thousands of parents across the worlds have Force-sensitive offspring. Thousands of women have had their little ones taken away because they are needed more elsewhere, called to something higher. Thousands of mothers will never watch their children grow up. Shmi Skywalker, for one. Your mother, I suppose, though I have trouble imagining _that_. I always thought I understood the Jedi. Now that I find myself contemplating losing my child to the Order, I no longer think so.

If this baby is Force-sensitive… I will _die_. I will lose it, and that will kill me. Anakin doesn't know I feel this way. Tell him at your peril.

Just – go away, Obi-Wan. I know I asked you to come, but… leave. Please. Leave me alone. And if you see Anakin, tell him I'd rather he came tomorrow. I need time to think, and the Force knows I have enough to think about.


	9. Chapter 9 - Bruck, 18 BBY

Xan, this is crazy. I mean, really. Nuts. How long does Ani think he's going to get away with _that_? Not just one baby that's dead-certain to grow up just like him, but twins. Who ever heard of Force-sensitive twins anyway? Hang it all, who heard of married Jedi anyway? I mean, Master Mundi aside.

I know we were all told – nice of Anakin to let the family know _before_ one of our kids worked it out. And I know Yoda knows, but with Padmé coming by every week or so, supposedly to talk strategy with the Great Negotiator, how long is it going to be before Ali Alann or someone else puts two and two together? I mean, they all know she's Luke and Leia's mother, that's in the paperwork. Putting _undeclared_ for their father was cute, but won't last. It never does.

And there is going to be a real chizzk-storm the instant anybody on Council gets just the faintest little hint our Ani is not only the father of the twins, but married, and not only married, but quite successfully so for the last two years with nobody suspecting. Dear Force, the Altistians would be the only Jedi who'd ever _speak_ to him again! And the whole family from Qui-Gon down to Ahsoka knew about it all along, so we're in as much trouble as Anakin if this gets found out. Why can't Obi-Wan _think_ before promising to keep secrets for people?

Speak of the devil… Obi-Wan! Hey, where have you been? Where _is_ everybody? Tahl's still in the Archives, I knew that, but anybody mission-fit? Okay, yes, Anakin's at Christophsis. Why? Top secret, you don't have to tell lowly old me _that_.

Qui-Gon and Nasriel are still out hunting? Just – humor me, yeah? – what exactly are they going to do if they _find_ him? Poor little Witch must be getting pretty sick of looking for Master Dooku. In total, she's been doing it for three years, and the mess that made him walk out wasn't her fault anyway! How come Qui-Gon's allowed to keep looking even when there are war missions piled up on everybody's datapads?

It – what? How is finding the last of the Lost a war mission? Obi-Nobi, you're making no sense.

Okay, now you're making a scary amount of sense. Let me get this straight: Since you killed Grievous at Utapau, Dooku is the only one who knows the identity of the Sith Lord. The Sith is the guy pulling the Seppies' strings, so kill him and the puppet falls in a crumpled heap, leaving us with a nice simple mop-up job for the next ten years or so. Well, yeah, I guess that beats fighting an organized enemy, but not by much.

Say again slowly. Qui-Gon is going after Dooku… basically on Padmé's say-so. If he finds him, he'll try to convince him to tell us who the Sith is, and then? Oh, come on, you don't honestly believe Dooku would allow himself to be brought back to Coruscant to stand trial. And another thing: what with that bad time last year… it was touch and go for a couple days there. Certainly Nasriel – and probably you – were going mad with worry. Qui-Gon's not as young as he was. Is he going to survive this?

It's mad. It's a crazy, mad, insane mission only a politician could think of. And you Council guys aren't just talking Qui-Gon into it – everybody knows what he thinks of crazy and impossible ideas – but you've tossed Nasriel in at the deep end as well. Did it not occur to you that she's only nineteen? Did it not occur to you that she'd maybe like to live to Knighthood? Obi-Wan, this is tantamount to murder. Did Yoda approve this, or just grumble and tell you he didn't mind either way?

Okay, be that way. Tell Nasriel – next time you call them – that if anything… happens… Xan or I would be more than happy to keep an eye on her for a year or so. Just in case.


	10. Chapter 10 - Nasriel, 17 BBY

_I think I need to clarify: I swore I would never live through the day I killed a particular character. I've kept that oath. This was finished on a day I never experienced, thanks to the International Date Line._

* * *

Vape it – kark it – _skeg_. Ani, I know the brake compressor was in here before, so why won't it go in now? Well, if you're the expert, you do it. Oh. Right. Like that. And yeah, I'm all black oil streaks. It'll wash off. Tahl won't notice, and I bet Qui-Gon and Bruck don't get back today.

It's not right. Oh, hydrospanner – over there. I shouldn't even be here. I should be with Qui-Gon. Last trip looking for Master Dooku, and the trip before that, and the one before _that_ , I went along, no problems. This time he's taking _Bruck_ to help. He doesn't think I can do it. I've tackled Dooku before, back when I was only a kid. But it's like he doesn't trust me.

Or, as you say, it could be that he's just trying to keep me safe. What if I don't want that? What if I don't care if I'm safe, as long as I'm with Qui-Gon? Yeah… it's a Master's duty to try and prevent his Padawan dying before knighthood, but I'm no more than a year away from that now.

Doesn't make it any easier being left behind. I guess… it's not so much that I feel he doesn't trust me, as I'm _worried_ for him. You remember the time he had that heart attack. Force, I was scared. I thought we'd lost him for sure. And now I'm always afraid of it happening again. Xan's coming; he's worried about something. What's up, Xanatos?

Oh, that's wonderful! When did they get in? Sure, if Qui-Gon sent you to find me – I'll come just as soon as I get this grease off my hands. Two minutes, okay?

Wh-why is two minutes too long? Xan? There's something awful in your expression. I – oh-h-h. No, it's – Xanatos, no. Tell me you're joking. Tell me you didn't just say Qui-Gon is dying.

I'm coming. I'm coming. Just – is – is there any hope at all? No. Right. Dooku – sorry, _who_ killed Dooku? Oh, Bruck. Is Bruck okay? Good.

I'm sorry, say again. Chancellor Palpatine is the Sith Lord we're after. And… you're sure. So sure that Obi-Wan's gone with Master Windu to arrest the guy. Does Obi-Wan know about Qui-Gon – oh. Well, he's always the first to know everything. Still, I kinda wish… it didn't have to be _this_ that was the first time he heard about something after I did.

Well, here we are. I always hated the medcenter. _Disliked_ the medcenter. Yes, Master Che, I understand. Yes, I'll be quiet. Thank you, Master Che.

Qui-Gon? Master? It's me, Nasriel. You – you sent Xanatos to get me. He –

He said –

I'm _not_ crying, Master! Okay, I am. I should know better than to try and fool you. What even happened, anyway? I should have been there.

Dooku… that creeping bastard. Force, if Bruck hadn't killed him – yes, I _am_ angry! I know, Qui-Gon, you've told me. A Jedi knows not anger. I'm sorry. But –

I know nobody lives forever. I'm not asking for forever: I just wish… you could see me knighted. I so wanted to do something – anything – to make you proud of me. And now there's not time left.

Don't – I'm all over toxic engine grease. Master Che had fifty fits, but I guess it doesn't make much difference anymore.

Your hands are so cold.

Stupid – there're a thousand things I was saving up to tell you when you got home, and I can't remember a single one of them. I already _said_ I wasn't crying. If you keep telling me everything's going to be fine, though, I will. Nothing is ever going to be fine again.

You really are all that important to me, yes. Is that a problem? I love you; I don't want to lose you.

No – if you're dying then at least let me follow you. Please, Qui-Gon. I know it takes more courage to live than to die, you've told me that too. But I don't have all that much courage.

I hope you're wrong. I wish you were wrong. But if you say it's time for final orders, well. You're the Master.

Yes, I will live. Yes, I will try to discourage Tahl from doing anything rash after you've gone. Yes… if you insist I will accept Xanatos's offer of training.

I love you. Thanks for everything. No – you've got nothing to apologize for. I – goodbye, Master. May the Force be with you.

It's okay, Master Che. You don't have to tell me. I can feel our Force bond dissolving. It… hurts. Would you excuse me, please?

Where have I been the last hour? I've been hiding, Xanatos. Mostly from my own grief, partly from other people's sympathy, because I don't know which hurts more. I don't know how to handle it right now. No, I won't open the door.

At present I am sitting on my bed curled up in Qui-Gon's old cloak, and I am crying. Because Qui-Gon is dead and because I love him. No, I don't mean _loved_. Love is in the present tense, Xan, you know that. Please leave me alone. Please don't tell me about the terrible mission you were involved in that ended up completely fine. I don't think I believe in happy endings just at the moment.


End file.
